Contemplations
by h4lfpr1nce
Summary: After the war, Harry spends his time feeling guilty about the deaths he thinks he's caused. All that's apparent from the outside is that he's withdrawn and lost in his thoughts. Draco, concerned, gets him to open up. But why does Draco care so much?


**I haven't posted anything in forever. I'm such a horrible person. I have like half of the next chapter for my long Klaine thing and about a third for my other Drarry fic, but I keep being unmotivated. What I feel motivated to write are one-shots such as this, and I keep running out if steam halfway through. I actually finished this one, though, so **

**enjoy :)  
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Harry ran his fingers along the ground, tracing the edge of his shadow as the sun bore down on him from above. It was the middle of summer and he was, thankfully, still at Hogwarts. He was of age so they couldn't legally make him return to the Dursleys, but where else would he go? He loved Ron and Hermione with all his heart, but he didn't think Molly and Arthur could handle another mouth to feed and he didn't think Hermione's parents would look kindly on having a boy stay in their house for the entire summer. The perfect solution would have been Sirius. But he was dead.

Sirius… the name still cut open his heart whenever he heard it. Not only because for a short time he had replaced the parents Harry had never experienced but also because he was the reason Sirius was dead. Every time he closed his eyes he saw the body falling through the veil, smile still etched across the too-aged face. Sirius' time in Azkaban hadn't done him any favors.

It hit him again. He was responsible for his godfather's death. He was responsible for _all_ of their deaths. His parents because he had existed; Cedric because he had tried to be a good person like he was supposed to be; Sirius because he had been foolish. And then, inadvertently, Dumbledore and Fred and Lupin and Percy and everyone else who had died in the war because the whole entire war was his fault. If he hadn't gone to the graveyard- If he had let Cedric take it instead- And those thoughts sent him further down the spiral of despair because he thinks himself selfish, knowing that he didn't give up the glory of the tournament when he already had so much of his own that he didn't want and knowing that if he went back he'd rather have sent Cedric to his death than be responsible for Voldemort's return.

He immediately thought about standing up, but he didn't act on it. He knew he couldn't stay here on the ground persecuting himself, but if he went back in this state he'd have to _talk_ about it with Ron and Hermione, who were staying at Hogwarts as well; all of the Weasleys and several other families were. And if he went back he'd have to see the children. And looking into their eyes sometimes gave him the worst guilt of all. The war orphans were not particularly tragic nor were they numerous. Voldemort didn't care if he killed children. They were, however, all at Hogwarts and Harry hated looking at them. He could see the light missing from their eyes and blamed that on himself as well. After all, it was from their hissing parents, and why were they missing? Because of the war. And whose fault was the war? That responsibility rested on Harry's shoulders. He didn't even think that the same diminished light shone out of his own eyes, nor did he ever consider that someone could see it and want to erase it.

He rammed his fingertips into the hard earth beneath them, not breaking any nails but not caring if he did. Shouldn't he be living it up by now? Shouldn't he be basking in praise because he'd saved the wizarding world? Shouldn't he be happy? Shouldn't he forget? But no, the guilt haunted him just as his old visions of Voldemort still haunted him with cold sweats and screaming. And then he thought that he _should _be haunted, for all that he had done and all he had failed to do. He buried his face into the patchy grass beneath him and screamed and let it muffle his sounds. Because even those times when he completely thought that he deserved it he could never bring himself to welcome the pain. It wouldn't have been pain if he had. His thoughts were so occupied that he didn't notice quiet footsteps or the whisper of robes as someone sat beside him. The gentle lapping of the waves at the lake's shore a few yards behind him had subtly took over his hearing as dark thoughts raced round in a circle in his mind. It was the voice that pulled him away from himself.

"I hate myself sometimes," it said, quiet but still startling Harry. He remembered a time not long ago at all when he would have whipped around, wand ready, at the voice he so easily recognized. As it was, he slowly turned his head to take in the cross-legged form of Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy, though Harry more frequently called him Draco now, was one of the orphans staying at Hogwarts. Malfoy Manor and all its contents had been confiscated by the Ministry, which was still full of complete gits. Harry hazarded a guess that some things would never change, even though everything else seemed to all the time. Harry wasn't close to Draco, really, but they were certainly no longer enemies. He was glad that Draco's eyes didn't make him feel guilt like the other orphans, though. The light in them had died long ago, sometime during second or third year when Draco had finally realized that no matter what he did he would never be good enough for his father. Not loving your parents seemed to have much the same effect as losing them. Harry fleetingly wondered for what had to be one of a million times what would have happened if the Dursleys had actually cared about him, but dismissed the thought. It was over and done with and really didn't matter anymore.

"Hmm?" Harry inquired lethargically, feeling the effects of the warm sun on his back, "Why?"

"For being such a horrible person, obviously," Draco snarled, and then adopted a sad little smile, "See? I'm like that and I- I can't help it. All I ever wanted to do was please my father, even when I didn't know why I was doing it anymore. I had all of his ideas running around in my head and they kept telling me to say and do evil things. Everything I've ever done was for him.

"He told me to comb my hair back, I did. He told me to make friends with purebloods and even half-bloods but never mudbloods, so I did that to. He told me to pledge myself to that- that _thing_ that I was terrified of, to become a Death Eater, and I- I did. I adopted his view and beliefs, his superior attitude, and the ways he spoke and carried himself. I was never _me_; I was only trying to be him. And now that I want to be me I have no idea who I am without him to whisper it in my ear for me. I didn't even know, not until the war was over, how wrong and misguided some of his ideas were. I honestly _believed_ everything he told me, even the foul stuff about muggle-borns and how power was the most important thing to possess in the world.

"I try, you know, to block out the ideas, but sometimes I feel them slipping. I find myself thinking something that I _know _is wrong, but it's still there. And sometimes when I look in the mirror all I see is him, and that is when I truly hate myself." Draco finished, letting the silence stretch through the air and shivering despite the vibrant sun.

"I- But that's all your father's fault! Of course you believed him! A child always adopts the opinions of its parents! You couldn't-" Harry said, having sat up to listen and trying to refute each and every statement Draco had made. It wasn't right for him to have to feel that way.

"I tell myself that, but somewhere in my heart, not my brain, I can't help feeling that it's not true. And regardless, it went on for far too long. I didn't love him after second year. I didn't even like him after third. But I still wanted him to love me and like me, Isn't that crazy? I got the Dark Mark for someone I didn't even like."

"You couldn't help it. It's hard to stop wanting approval from someone you used to care about. Me with the Dursleys… even though I knew they weren't my parents and hated them with a passion by the time I was eight, I couldn't stop… wanting it, you know? I'd still clean extra hard, knowing they'd find fault in it, just to try and get a word of approval."

"I- you're right. It's stupid."

"Everyone resembles their parents; they can't help it. I'm told how like both of them I am, even though I've never met either. And if you're feeling guilty about that, you've got nothing on me."

"What?"

"I have a reason to feel guilty."

"You seem to have been implying that. Well let's have it then."

"Everyone I care about dies."

"No they don't."

"But they do."

"The Weasleys."

"Diminished."

"Granger- I mean Hermione."

"Fine- for now."

Draco barked a laugh at the twisted humor.

"But that's not it. I'm responsible for all of their deaths. They're all my fault!" Harry wailed, tears that didn't escape when he was alone flowing freely when he was pouring out emotions to someone else.

"You can't possibly believe-!"

"But they are! My parents were killed because they had _me_! Sirius fell through the veil trying to rescue _me_ because I had to be an idiot and run off without checking if he was really there first! Cedric died because _I_ suggested he grab the portkey with me! And you _know_ I was watching when Fred got hit by that curse! Dobby died because I called him to that house to help us escape! And those people… all those people who died in the final battle, Lupin," Harry shuddered, finally revealing what the sight of the lines of bodies had done to him, "All of their blood is on my hands as well. Voldemort only returned because he got the help of my blood. It sometimes makes me sick to think how many people would still be alive if I had never existed."

Draco immediately exclaimed, "But that's all Voldemort's fault!" and the words rang familiarly since they were the same ones Harry had said just a few minutes ago to Draco about his father. He was still crying, hating himself for being so weak, and could only whisper objections, "You can't- It's not the same?"

"It is though," Draco said comfortingly, moving over to wrap his arms around Harry's frame, "It's exactly the same. _He_ was the one who believed the prophecy and decided it was you, who took your blood and ordered Cedric's death, who ordered the raid on the Department of Mysteries and sent you that awful dream. He was the one who attacked Hogwarts for the final battle and it was him and his men who killed every single person on your side that died that night. It was all him and was never you, Harry.

"You thought of all the people who would be alive if you never existed. You should think of all the people that wouldn't be. When Voldemort attacked you as a baby, you vanquished him. You gave people hope for the first time in years. Imagine how many would have died at his hand if he had continued to rise in power instead of vanishing then? You saved them all."

"But… but I didn't kill him," Harry still protested, voice muffled by his face being buried in the robes covering Draco's shoulder. He smelled sweet, like sugar and peppermint, and Harry had gotten several heady whiffs as he breathed deeply while he was sobbing.

"Not then, but after he returned you did. The people who died in that battle sacrificed themselves because they wanted to stop Voldemort from hurting any more innocent people. You were the one that stopped him, Harry, and so bravely. You were willing to give up your life to make him more vulnerable. You're simply… amazing, Harry, and I don't know how you could think otherwise after all you've done. What I think most people don't realize is that you're only seventeen, just like me. We're still… children, really, and no one should expect anything of us, but you surpassed any expectations the wizarding world put on you. You escaped from and thwarted the plan of the most powerful Dark Lord alive _five times_ and then killed him. I don't think you understand how remarkable you truly are and how much you mean to everyone. Or how much you mean to _me_."

Something about that very last part stroked something he never knew was inside of him and set it humming, but he pushed it to the background. He lifted his head up, though Draco's arms were still around him, and looked at Draco gratefully. Draco's words had somehow done what nobody else's had. It caused him to doubt. No, not just doubt, _believe_. He _believed_ Draco's words; he had somehow moved far past doubting his own original convictions. He felt calm and relaxed as he never had before and told Draco as much.

"It's almost as if you planned this. You knew exactly what to say," Harry said. For some reason Draco looked sheepish.

"I kind of did. Not," He said hastily as Harry blinked at him in shock, "that I knew what you were going to say or anything. I just… I knew something was bothering you. You looked so sad these last few months. It really upset me that you were troubled by something, so I wanted to help you. I figured that you'd be more likely to open up to me if I opened up to you first so I… did. It took me a while to build of the courage to do it, though."

Draco had to build up courage to talk to Harry? The knowledge sent a rather warm and tingly type of uncertainty running through his stomach. He almost didn't want to ask the next question. "Draco," he said seriously, "what did you mean earlier? You know, when you said that I… I didn't understand what I meant to you?"

Draco looked entirely too unsure for a moment, but this he set his jaw with conviction and simply said, "This."

He leaned in to kiss Harry, who was sure he had a thousand emotions flickering across his face in the instant before their lips met. Blood flooded to Harry's cheeks simply on principle. His experiences in the field were limited to once with Cho Chang and a few more times with Ginny, after which he was respectively cried on and dumped for Dean Thomas because he was being too "sulky." Though he wasn't the best or most qualified of judges, he knew Draco's kiss far surpassed any he had received before.

At first it was just a light brush; a tentative trial by Draco to make sure Harry didn't pull away. He needn't have bothered, because Harry had no intentions of doing anything of the sort. The kiss became more definite as Harry shifted forward. He loved the feeling of Draco's firm yet supple and silky smooth lips moving against his own, which, he thought just before he lost the ability _to_ think, were probably horribly dry and chapped. He didn't explore that train of thought, however, because just then Draco's lips parted beneath his and as he felt an compelling swipe of a tongue along his bottom lip he parted his own in return. It wasn't like he had been paying much attention to his surroundings, but at that moment the world seemed to fall away, leaving only himself, Draco, and the sparks of tension in the air around them.

Draco's tongue was gently probing Harry's mouth and Harry made to return the favor. An electric tingle ran up Harry's spine, reminding him of the warmth of his wand choosing him. But better. The feeling only increased as Draco's tongue brushed along Harry's teeth and then moved further in. His tongue wrapped around Harry's and he began sucking on it, causing Harry to moan softly into his mouth. When Draco finally pulled away breathing heavily, Harry couldn't help but let a small almost inaudible whimper of disappointment escape his mouth.

"You mean the world to me," Draco whispered in Harry's ear quietly, his voice breathy from kissing. Harry's brain was slowly becoming active again. Very slowly.

"Wow," he said, _extremely_ coherently, he was sure, "Just… wow. I didn't know kisses could feel like that."

"They probably can't," Draco said, eyes downcast, and Harry cocked his head to the side in confusion because one just _had_, but Draco continued, "I'm probably about to wake up. This is probably one of those dreams I've been having about you for forever."

_Forever._ That word seemed to glow inside Harry's head as he wrapped his mind around it. "How long?" he asked suddenly.

Draco looked up and seemed to decide that he wasn't dreaming. He said, a bit sarcastically, "How long have I loved you? Let's see…"

"You know how, sometimes, little kids chase the person they liked around and tease them?" Harry nodded. "Well, I was always very much a bully to my crush, all through my school career, actually."

"But you've been mean to me since… oh," Harry said as Draco adopted a look that told him he was missing the obvious.

"Exactly. I've been pining after you ever since I first saw you in Madam Malkin's. That sneer? It was just to hide my expression of undying love."

Harry started sniggering, causing Draco to hit him lightly on the arm and exclaim, "It isn't funny, you twat! Why else do you think I offered you my friendship? A Malfoy does not just befriend _anyone_, you know."

Draco uttered the last sentence with as haughty and superior a tone as possible before dissolving into fits of laughter himself with Harry joining him. Harry looked around and noticed the area had darkened and the sun was no longer bearing down on them. He looked it up and saw dark clouds heavy with the weight of raindrops had obscured it. He silently gestured at them and as Draco nodded they both stood up. As they walked back to the castle Harry slipped his hand into Draco's, mulling over all that had happened.

Draco loved him. Hearing it, even in passing, even just _remembering_ hearing it caused a happy flush to appear on Harry's cheeks. The cuts in his heart that Sirius' name caused every time he thought it didn't seem to exist anymore. The spot would always ache, but his heart had other things to occupy it now. 'I love you,' he tested the words in his head. He had a feeling that they wouldn't slip off the tongue so easily just yet. However, given a month or two…

Harry grinned, just a little deviously. He stuck out his foot in front of Draco, causing him to trip and fall into Harry's arms, eliciting a startled "Hey!" from the blond. His smile widened; apparently he was the type that liked to tease the person he liked as well.


End file.
